


Martha Stewart, eat your heart out

by strangling_rosemary



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangling_rosemary/pseuds/strangling_rosemary
Summary: An unapologetic fluffy and sweet ficlet about Tony making a cake for a special day with “help” from JARVIS.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70
Collections: The Mechanic and The Soldier





	Martha Stewart, eat your heart out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Justamanlymouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justamanlymouse/gifts).



> A thank you to [Notanniex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notanniex/profile)
> 
> Written for a world built in collaboration with [Justamanlymouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justamanlymouse)

“Martha Stewart, eat your heart out,” Tony gleefully announced to the empty kitchen as he took the loaf tin out of the oven and used his heel to knock the oven door closed as he turned away. Really, he should make one that closed automatically. _‘Mm, I’ll do it later,’_ he thought as he set the tin down on the cooling tray and threw his red and gold oven mitts aside.

“Sir, I believe you owe Ms Stewart thanks, you _did_ use her recipe after all.” JARVIS’s cool British voice interrupted Tony’s fawning over the perfectly golden creation.

“I am not thanking a convicted felon for this piece of perfection. Now set a timer for thirty minutes, this baby needs to cool.” JARVIS did as he was told while Tony set about cleaning up the kitchen. Contrary to popular belief Tony was a very capable cook; having an Italian mother and being an only child meant that he was the singular student for the family recipes and final stop for all of the ‘secret’ ingredients that supposedly made the dough extra bouncy or the sauce delicious. Maria Stark was rolling over in her grave because Tony most certainly was not putting anise in anything other than mulled wine, thank you very much.

As he cleaned Tony made a mental checklist. Flour, baking powder, salt. Check. Two-twenty butter, four-ninety sugar, chopped rosemary and vanilla extract, yep. Tony didn’t need to think too hard to remember because his left arm still throbbed from trying to get the solid blocks of butter to turn _pale and fluffy_. Sure, he could have used the mixer rather than Maria’s old wooden spoon but the cake wouldn’t have the same amount of _love_ in it.

Perhaps a some of those cooking lessons that had stuck...

Then the eggs and combining flour and wet mixtures in parts. The last ingredient was a cup of milk and then in the tin and off into the oven for one nerve wracking hour. Tony was certain he added the milk since he had paused to sniff it, which had only become a necessity since Clint moved into the tower and continued his terrible habit of leaving the milk out. Steve would inevitably put said milk back in the fridge because he was trying to be helpful and still lost his mind when he saw food waste, seemingly unable to leave the forties behind despite living with a _literal_ billionaire.

“The honey!” Tony shouted like some demented version of Winnie the Pooh. Throwing the cloth he had been using to clean the kitchen towards the sink he launched himself at the fridge, grabbing a handful of rosemary and then sliding across the tiles to the cupboard to retrieve a jar of honey. In a final flurry of activity Tony tipped the honey into a saucepan and threw in the rosemary.

“Five minutes left on the timer, sir,” JARVIS prompted. “Long enough to burn the honey, perhaps?”

“Listen here, I don’t need your sarcasm. I made you and I most certainly didn’t put this much sass in you only to have it used against me,” Tony admonished his first-born as he brought the honey to a simmer. Continuing to stir, he cast a quick look over his shoulder, suddenly worried that a particular someone might come to investigate the noise (and the smell – which was delightful, Tony had told JARVIS as much only to be reminded the AI did not have olfactory sensors. _Smartass_ ).

A beep alerted Tony to the end of those five minutes and he took the honey off of the heat, going back to the cooling tin he started the process of pulling the cake out by the baking paper and then slowly peeling that off of the golden pound cake. JARVIS made no comment about the muttered curses as the paper stuck stubbornly to the warm base which had to be encouraged off with the pointy end of a knife. Eventually the cake was on a large plate and Tony looked at the rectangular creation with the fondness of a father, right before he brought the knife down and turned it into neat slices.

“Now the honey. JARVIS, can you tell me where he is?” Tony asked as he drizzled the rosemary honey over the rosemary pound cake.

“In bed still, Sir,” JARVIS replied and if Tony paid attention he could have sworn he heard affection in JARVIS’s voice as the AI watched his creator place the plate on a tray complete with two smaller plates, two forks, a vase with a bright yellow daffodil and one envelope.

The tray in his hands Tony carefully walked the familiar route to his and Bucky’s penthouse bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot he took a moment to enjoy the view.

Barnes was sprawled out across the bed, his flesh arm pillowing his head and the metal one flung out as if searching for the missing occupant. The background to this gorgeous sight (which included one perfect pert, very bare backside) was the sprawling skyline of New York.

“Hey, baby...” Tony smiled at Bucky. “Happy birthday!”


End file.
